


My Lovely Rose (Proof of Concept)

by Darkbeetlebot



Series: Ideas for Madomagi series [4]
Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Cinnamon Roll Kaname Madoka, F/F, Family, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Humor, Insults, Nobility, One Shot, Short, Slow Romance, Teasing, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 07:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20336386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkbeetlebot/pseuds/Darkbeetlebot
Summary: In this non-magical alternate universe, Homura is the daughter of a couple rich eccentrics who act like they're nobility, and she shares a lavish western-style mansion with her 4 other siblings.During her brother's birthday gala, Homura meets the young Kaname Madoka by chance, and the two immediately hit it out of the park.This is a proof of concept. It may or may not become a longer future project, depending on reception.





	My Lovely Rose (Proof of Concept)

August 14th, at the relatively famous Akemi mansion. Today is the eldest (and only) son's birthday and the date of the annual Birthday Celebration and Business Gala. Hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Akemi (who go by ordinary titles to seem friendly), a vast array of already-important and possibly-soon-to-be-important individuals in the business world of the Mitakihara region all meet up and share their connections.

This year is the first year that their youngest daughter, Homura Akemi, is allowed to attend due to being the ripe age of 14. Not that she hadn't snuck out to attend on occasion anyways, but that little detail is intentionally ignored by her somewhat inattentive parents. Indeed, they are more invested in making sure their older daughters are getting along nicely with their suitors.

The entire mansion they host it at and live in is specifically made to be a fusion between west and east. One half European mansion, one half Japanese castle. Mr. Akemi is to credit for the former, the Misses for the latter. They do quite love their intercultural exchange, but the more apathetic guests tend to just wear normal, modern (but very proper) attire to the celebration.

Homura, being more of the father's favorite, has been mostly forced into an elegant dark red dress that compliments her black hair beautifully, but is unfortunately tight around the waist. Not-so-thanks to her mother who had “kindly” cinched it far too much in the name of improving “charm”. Surely she must be teasing, with as little bust as Homura has.

Be that as it may, she's still enjoyed herself so far. Mostly because of the food and drinks, but also the abundance of women that give her a clear chill down her spine. The less enjoyable part would be the far greater abundance of mostly young but sometimes (worryingly) older boys who basically hit on anything with a pulse at an event like this. Not abnormal; this has happened at every event thus far, but this is the first time she's truly been the recipient of such advances. None of which are welcome.

“How many times do I need to tell you to fuck off?” Homura chides one 15-year old who tried his assuredly lame one-liners on her. Several times.

“I-I was just being friendly!” he clearly pretends.

She gives him a look, as if to say, “Oh really?” in the most smug way possible just to piss him off. It seems to work, as he just sighs and walks away, muttering something about “girls these days”. She makes a mental note to introduce that one in particular to her oldest sister as a prank, later. The amount of cringe would be enough to end any global shortage instantaneously. She giggles to herself about her plan.

But something catches her eye as she scans the room for someone to legitimately talk to. One absolutely fucking adorable girl who looks to be around 13 or 14. An absolute standout, thanks to her pink hair. Barely 5 feet, even tiny Homura has a height advantage on her. Easily the shortest one here of similar age. It's not easy to judge just how cute she is from a dozen meters away, but a quick approach would remedy that. She adjusts her dress a bit for comfort and does her most confident stride towards the snack bar where this new girl stands.

But then she stops. There's someone already talking to her. A guy. Oh, but not just any guy...

“Takeo Oeda...” Homura smirks. Quite the story behind this one, and definitely a golden opportunity to indulge in one of her favorite pastimes: Sick burns.

She continues her stride, but this time adds an obnoxiously casual but loud, “Heyyo!” to the mix as she approaches: One hand holding a glass of sparkling something-or-other and the other waving at the two. “Hey Oeda. The 70s called; they want their sideburns back.”

“Oh god...” he says under his breath as she comes from the side with another unbelievably smug look on her face. He knows what's coming and can do nothing but mitigate any damage...

Homura continues, “So how's your ex?”

...unsuccessfully.

He nervously looks away, “Hey, can you not? I'm busy.”

Homura puts her free arm around the pink-haired girl who remains silent, “What, hitting on chicks?”

“Well...” he tries to defend himself.

Too late. “Come on, you think a girl this cute's into 'that'?”

The girl blushes at the mild compliment. Meanwhile, Takeo is trying to preemptively stop her, “Hey, it's not like—!”

Homura keeps going anyways, “Look, I know it's hard for a Homo Erectus to get it through its skull, but not every girl has a 'rape fetish'.” she just barely emphasizes with one-handed air quotes. Then she takes a long sip of her glass to see what he says.

“Hey, whoa! That was settled out of court and you know it!” he nearly yells at her.

Homura takes her time swallowing, swirls the glass around to act classy, then just casually says, “Whoops.” in response.

He suddenly realizes what he just did. Or rather, what she made him do. When she sees the grim look on his face, she giggles almost uncontrollably. “God, you're such an idiot!” she insults.

He rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

Homura smirks again, “Yeah, go 'Whatever' yourself. Get out and harass someone your own age for once.”

He scoffs and reluctantly fucks off, but not before flipping the bird at his apparent rival. Homura just laughs that shit right off. When he's out of sight, she gives the pink-haired girl a pat on the back and apologizes, “Hey, sorry about that. He's just an idiot.”

The girl has greater worries, “Wait, was that true!? Did he...?”

Homura shrugs and laughs at the same time, “I... I don't actually know! But I'm really not taking chances. Besides, you're really cute.”

Madoka can't help but faintly blush again, “Th-Thanks. So...” she fidgets around a bit.

“You first.” Homura insists.

“Oh!” she seems surprised. “Madoka Kaname! But, well, you can call me Madoka if you want.”

Homura takes a sip of her quickly emptying drink, “Great. Homura.” She reaches out for a handshake, which is taken. “Homura Akemi.” she adds.

“Akemi!?” Madoka suddenly panics. “I'm sorry, it's an honor!” she pleads, bowing before her.

Homura nearly spits out her drink in bemused hysterics, “Come on! I'm not like that.”

“Eh?” Madoka looks up at her, confused.

“We're not nobles or anything.”

“But...”

Homura beckons her to stand up straight, then leans in close and whispers, “Mom and Dad are just 'eccentric'. The only reason we're even rich is because he's a CEO!”

“Oh.” Madoka says, now blushing out of embarrassment rather than flattery. “So...”

“Just Homura is fine.”

The stare she gives is so kind and down-to-earth that Madoka immediately loosens up, “Homura...”

“Yeah.” she replies. She goes around to the table and picks a piece of expensive-cheese-on-a-stick, “So I've never seen you here, before. Your dad get promoted or something?” She takes a bite out of it.

“Well...” Madoka twiddles with her thumbs as she coyly explains “...actually, it was mama who got invited. It looks like she's going to be really important, soon. Papa came too, but he stays home most of the time. I have a little brother, too! But we got a babysitter for him.”

Homura chuckles, “Well, that's good to hear. It'll be nice to have a woman up there instead of all these old geezers and their entitled sons.”

“Yeah...” Madoka absentmindedly agrees. “Is your brother entitled like that, too?”

Homura looks up briefly, then at the table on the other side of the room that he's sitting at with a few middle-aged people, then their parents. She decides, “Not really. Compared to the others, I guess he's pretty cool.”

“Oh...” Madoka sighs “...that's good. I hope Takkun doesn't grow up to be like that.”

“You're little brother?”

“Yeah.”

Homura smiles at her, “Well if he turns out anything like you, you won't have anything to worry about.”

Madoka can't help but grin at that. “Thanks.” she says quietly, looking away.

“Hmph.” Homura chuckles. “It confused me is all. Mine's name is Takuya. Just a syllable off!”

Madoka giggles, “I guess so! What a coincidence. What about your sisters?”

Homura seems to frown a bit, “I don't get along too well, with them.” She rubs her head, then explains anyways, “But: The oldest are Natsuki and Naname. Twins. They're both spoiled bitches who bully everyone into doing things for them. They'll act nice to mom and dad and Takuya, but everyone else is fair game. Then there's Aoi, who doesn't really do much. She and I keep to ourselves. I get all of her hand-me-downs. My room is actually her old one. I guess I don't know much about her. Or any of them, for that matter.”

Madoka glances over at Homura, who takes another bite of cheese. With a concerned expression, she asks, “Are they all really that mean? That sounds awful.”

“It's fine.” Homura insists. “Takuya keeps them from going too far, and they'd rather hang out with their stupid boyfriends, anyways. Always out, doing god-knows-what with their friends. I bet it's like those western movies.”

Madoka inches closer, “So what about your brother?”

“Doesn't have anyone. Mom and dad keep trying to set him up with daughters of all sorts of famous people, but he always rejects them after the third date. He seems more interested in relaxing.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not for me.” Homura says with her mouth full, then shrugs “I don't care about what he does.”

“Hmm...” Madoka hums. In short order, she gets an idea, which she whispers, “Do you think he's gay?”

Homura stops chewing for a moment, then slowly swallows without otherwise reacting. Then she giggles, whispering back, “Oh, Mom and Dad will be furious if he is. Ha... Idiots.”

Madoka fakes a smile (badly), “Right... Homura, you're a little...bitter, aren't you?”

“Maybe.” Homura says, staring down at her glass. “Say...” she asks “...do you like sparkling juice like this?”

“Eh? Well, I guess it's nice.” she says, not knowing what else to.

Homura closes her eyes and hums, “...Even bitterness can taste good.”

Madoka also hums, more in silent agreement.

“Especially cranberries. That'll wake you up!” Homura laughs at the end, glancing over at Madoka, who can't help but follow suit.

As the song being played in the background fades out, “The Fledermaus Waltz” begins to play in its stead. Homura stretches her arms out about the time that Madoka finally asks, “So, do you want to dance or something?”

Homura grins, but then sighs, “I'm not a fan of dancing. Not around this many people. Or in this dress. I don't really like this piece, either.” She starts fiddling with the bindings on her dress for emphasis.

Madoka leans back against the table, looking dejected, “Oh...”

Homura looks over at her, given the solemn tone, and offers instead, “But I have a better idea.”

Madoka looks up at her.

“Let's go upstairs to my room.” Homura stretches an arm out, trying her best to put on a friendly smile.

Madoka seems charmed enough, as she takes her hand and lets herself be led up the cascading staircase, away from prying eyes and stealthily past Homura's parents and their supposed vigilance.

Homura leads her down a hallway decorated in harsh reds and yellows, embroidery everywhere, ominous portraits of long-gone people lining the walls and seeming ready to jump out at a moment's notice. Every step, she must make sure to not tip over any of the many tables and pedestals hosting expensive pottery. She can't even possibly imagine what every room they pass by holds inside. How could anyone even need that many? 12 at least, so far. Could anybody even come up with a purpose for 12 different rooms? Are they all bedrooms? Whose?

Before she can think about it any deeper, they're suddenly brought to a stop by an intruder.

“...you're supposed to be in the gathering hall!” some servant tells Homura.

She argues back, “They will be fine without me. I'm not missing anything important.”

“The master's birthday!” the maid argues.

“Next year.” Homura dismisses. “This is more important.”

“And who is she?” the servant asks, pointing at Madoka.

“My new friend. I was showing her to my room.” Homura explains.

“You know I can't allow this.”

“You can and you will. Tell them I needed space, if they ask.” Homura chides.

“Young lady!” the maid tries to protest.

“Miss Ito.” Homura replies, staring daggers at her.

For some reason, that ends the confrontation. The maid lets them through without any more of a fight, and Madoka just ends up confused but unable to say anything.

Soon enough, they're in Homura's room. The first thing that strikes her is the bed: Takes up a majority of the room's space, covered in black and red sheets of very smooth and comfortable silk. It holds a canopy of similar make, but looking more like fancy curtains for a giant window, held open and tied up just for show. The sole lamp on a desk next to the bed glows a dull orange-red and coats the entire room to give it an unbelievably warm atmosphere, as if it were lit up by a campfire. Right next to the door is the closet, which is wide open and filled with so many outfits of such elaborate design that it's difficult to distinguish them.

“Oh my god...” uncontrollably escapes her lips.

Homura giggles, “It's nice, isn't it?” and takes a long stride onto her bedside.

Madoka decides to stroll around the somewhat small but extremely decorative room for a bit longer, soon noticing a collection of multi-colored, multi-patterned teddy bears displayed in front of the only actual window.

“Are these...?” Madoka approaches as her curiosity peaks.

Homura glances over, grinning and anticipating her reaction.

“Abu-chan!? And so many!” she lets out, bending over to look through the simple but large variety of different patterns. “Homura, you collect plushies too?”

“A little.” Homura says. An outright lie, given by the large collection of other, not-bear plush toys stuffed around every corner of the room that she just hasn't noticed yet.

As Homura comes up behind her, she notices, “And that's...the gold one!?”

“One in a million.” Homura says, confirming its rarity.

“Can I...?” she tries to ask, pointing towards the abnormally large, gold-colored, shiny bear sitting in the center of two dozen others.

Homura, unable to resist her charm, agrees, “Of course.”

Madoka immediately becomes elated, pounces on the doll, and starts nuzzling against its silken fur with the utmost delight she can muster, “I've never even seen one in real life, before! Aaah, it's so soft!”

Homura barely manages to hold back giggling again. Then she gets an idea. “Take a seat on the bed.” she tells her, and Madoka follows along. Homura proceeds to grab two armfuls of plushies from around the room and brings them over, springing them upon the unsuspecting Madoka in a torrent. Madoka squeaks in the most adorable way imaginable, forcing Homura's already overbearing grin to become borderline painful to maintain. Nonetheless, she tries to keep her composure and takes a seat back on the bed while Madoka leans back and tries to take all the toys into her arm for a massive hug.

When she opens her eyes, she only sees Homura's face looking down upon her with that incredibly wide and awkward smile. She smiles back, sits up, and turns her Hugging Energy onto Homura, who nearly jumps from the sudden embrace.

“Thank you so much!” Madoka says, squeezing her tightly.

At first, Homura isn't sure what to think. Then she remembers that a cute girl is hugging her, and immediately forgets any problem she had with it. She hugs back, “No problem.” And they stay like that for another minute before Madoka pulls away.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I just hugged you out of nowhere. That—”

“It's fine.” Homura reiterates, placing a hand on her shoulder and rubbing it reassuringly. “I guess this makes us friends, right?”

Madoka blushes slightly and looks away, “Yeah! I guess so. If you don't mind, that is.”

Homura's hand slides down her arm and meets her own hand, “I said it's fine, alright?”

Madoka sighs, “Yeah.”

Again, they stay like that in a comfortable silence until Madoka realizes her hand is being held, then quickly retracts it with another embarrassed blush that only charms Homura more. She tries to detract from the sudden tension, “So...what do you do around here?”

Homura's smile fades as she looks thoughtfully to the ceiling, “Not much, really. It's actually pretty boring, around here. I'm always just dressing myself up or playing with these little things.” She picks up the gold bear and superficially waves its arms about. “Either that or doing chores, going to extracurricular classes, or arranged meetings. Get on the computer sometimes.”

“Arranged meetings?” Madoka asks.

“Mom and Dad like to make me and Aoi meet their friends and their kids. They're always more stuck up brats and such.” Homura explains. She looks back at Madoka with a restored smile, “It's nice to talk to a normal person for once.”

Madoka stares back, completely and utterly entranced with her comforting, somewhat nostalgic smile. Staring right into her crystalline eyes. Uncoconsciously, she blurts out, “Beautiful...”

“Hm?” Homura hums, tilting her head.

“Eh?” Madoka jumps slightly from her daze, then realizes she said that aloud. “Oh! Well, you are really pretty! I mean, I wish I were.” she starts to stumble over her words “I guess I am pretty normal-looking. I don't know if that's a compliment...from you, or...” and she quickly trails off, only for Homura to stop her.

“Shh.” she hushes, placing a finger on Madoka's lips. “If anything, you're cute.”

“Cute.” The word echoes through Madoka's mind, increasing her embarrassment tenfold. Her mom typically avoided using the phrase, and the way her friends usually put it was jokingly, or as a general compliment. The last person to say it with the absolute sincerity that Homura just had, was that boy who confessed to her in elementary school. Not as a term of endearment, but something else that makes her brain light up. Especially coming from someone with her status, in such a private place, while she's touching her...

She doesn't even realize that her face is frozen in a state of awe, clearly staring off into space. This doubles down on the embarrassment, resulting in approximately 40 times her original level since they sat down together. She couldn't tell exactly how red she was by now, but if heat is any indication, it must be so blatantly obvious as to classify her as a fruit.

“Madoka.” Homura calls to her from beyond the vast recesses of space.

Madoka clicks back into reality, “Eh? Sorry, I was just...”

Homura can barely hold back her adoring laughter, “You know, I wasn't sure about it at first, but I think I already like you.”

“Really?” Madoka asks.

“Really.” Homura confirms, pulling her into hug. “Congratulations, you're my friend, now.”

Madoka chuckles and happily accepts the embrace. But a minute or so later of just idly sitting there, she finds the curiosity to ask, “Homura, do you have any other friends?”

Homura hums, as if recounting something. After a brief pause, she answers, “...Not really. Aoi and Takuya sometimes keep me company, and the girls at school either don't like me or I don't like them. They may look and act pretty, but too many of them are...”

“Spoiled?” Madoka finishes for her.

Homura smirks, “Hmph. We're going to be finishing each other's sentences, aren't we?” Madoka giggles at this. Homura continues, “Yes, something like that. I never got to really attend these parties, either. They thought I would just ruin something.”

Madoka hugs her tighter, the blush disappearing from her cheeks, “That's... That's just horrible!”

Homura sighs and shakes her head, “It's okay. Now that I've found you, I think it'll be okay.”

Despite her attempt at reassurance, Madoka isn't convinced, and Homura can feel it just from how she shifts around. So, instead of trying to use her abysmal conversation skills, Homura picks her phone up from the nearby nightstand and starts looking through it. She eventually brings up some stupid, outdated image macro and says, “Hey, look.”

It doesn't take long before Madoka suddenly bursts out laughing for a brief moment. Homura finds that laugh of hers to become music to her ears. She realizes some might call it strange, but she continues to shuffle through different images and reveling in the sound until it becomes ingrained in her mind. A small piece of heaven, to be sure, but still one worth holding onto. For the next few hours into the night, until the party has ended, they just sit there and giggle. First at words plastered on images, then at cats, and eventually some surreal idiocy that Homura had dug up from the dark pits of 2chan.

But someone eventually has to come knocking, and so they do. They hear a guy's voice from the other side of the door after a quick knock, “Homura, are you in there?” And before even finishing the sentence, Homura's older brother just waltzes right the fuck in like he owns the place.

She jumps slightly, and looks at him. And he looks at her. And she looks at him. And he looks at her. And she looks at him. And he looks at her! And she looks at him! And he looks at her, but also the other girl beside her. Notably how close they are.

He chuckles, “Oh. Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“I'd throw this at you if it wouldn't break.” Homura threatens, holding up her phone.

He seems to find this amusing. “My, my. Very defensive, today. Anyways, would this be Ms. Kaname's daughter?” he points at Madoka.

“Why?” Homura asks immediately after he finishes.

“Party's over. Her parents are looking for her.” he points towards the left.

Homura sighs, letting her arm down and looking dejected. Madoka stands up and nervously tells her, “I...guess it's time to go. I'll...see you later, hopefully.”

She starts to head towards the door, when Homura suddenly jumps up when she realizes, “Wait, Madoka!” Madoka turns around and is pulled into another, tighter hug at the same time. It's over quickly, as Homura holds out her phone, “My number...”

Madoka realizes what she's doing after a thought or two, “Oh! I almost forgot!” She pulls her phone out of an actual, functional pocket in her dress—

“Nifty.” Homura comments.

...and holds it out. They quickly exchange numbers, smile at each other, then part without a second thought, but with refreshed vigor. Homura's brother leads her out to the hall where her parents beckon her forth, and they are some of the last guests to leave. Mostly because Junko couldn't stop trying to out-drink people, but oh well.

As soon as they're gone, Takuya comes back and does the same damn thing again, “Homura, you in here?”

She's in the middle of rearranging some plush toys, but still speaks, “You're lucky I got out of that dress before you walked in.” She's dressed in a very loose nightgown.

“Says the girl who refused to wear clothes when she was four.” he quips.

Homura groans, “I don't remember that.”

“Of course not.” Takuya continues to badger her. When she refuses to respond, he just keeps talking, “So I take it you made a new friend?”

No response.

“You two looked pretty close for having just met.” he tries.

Still, no response.

“She's pretty cute, right?”

“Shut. Up.” Homura says while throwing a huge stuffed giraffe at him. It has no effect. “You're lucky I didn't throw one with a voice box.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, “You keep saying I'm the lucky one, but weren't you pretty lucky? It could have been Mom and Dad walking in on that. Or worse: Natsuki and Naname.”

Homura visibly shudders, “Don't even joke about that.”

“Hey, I don't condone what they do, either.”

“Just what are you getting at?” Homura turns around, having finally finished.

He sits on the bed and takes a more serious tone with her, “Just be careful, alright? I care about you and Aoi more than anyone else in this family. The last thing I want is for those two to find more things to bully you about.”

The sheer wholesomeness of his admission makes her drop the cold shoulder act. She sighs, “I know, I know. I just...”

He stands up, approaches, and pats her on the shoulder, “It's alright. I get it.” But when he looks down, those words haven't quite brought her back up. So, he offers something else, “Hey, want to finish the show we were watching? Only four episodes left.”

Homura groans, glances at her phone, then back at him, and hesitates greatly, “Well... Ah...”

He looks where she was glancing, puts one and two together, then reminds her, “You can take it with you, you know. I won't look, I promise.”

She finally smiles, “Well, okay.”

“That's my girl.” he says, rubbing her head before he goes to the door. Homura goes to get her phone, but stops to fiddle with it for a second.

Noticing his chance, he adds, “I'll go get the snacks, first. Take your time. And get Aoi when you're done.”

“Don't put that spicy powder on the chips again.” Homura requests idly.

He doesn't move, contemplating his next words. Then, he advances his rook, “...And who's going to stop me?”

It is at that moment that they can both simultaneously imagine the tense battle music revving up in the background.

Homura looks up from her phone at him, grinning back at her, and she says, “...You little...!”

“You're the little one!” he yells as he takes off down the hall. Homura nearly rips her phone off the charging cord and takes flight, barefoot, down the halls at sonic speed, nearly drifting around the corner to catch up to him. And soon, she overtakes him without a single word.

“H-Hey! No fair, I'm still in my dress shoes!” he yells at her.

But alas, she is soon out of sight.

He slows to a stop and sighs, “Well, guess the roles are reversed, now...”


End file.
